Mallory

My landlord liked to greet me whenever I got home every night from work. He thought we had something going on, and I thought he was out of his mind. I would never touch him again as long as I had enough money to pay bills. I threw an envelope full of cash at him for this month's rent, then fished the key out of the mailbox. The chain kept slipping from my grip so I was relieved when I finally pulled it up. I unlocked the house, slamming the door behind me as I walked in.

Home sweet home, I thought bitterly.

I took a seat on the couch that served as my bed. I scored it from the side of the road one night. It was a sleeper bed which was good for business. No one likes to get off on just a couch unless they are in the mood. When I give myself up, I'm never in the mood. At least with a mattress I can act better instead of readjusting myself to get comfortable.

That's what I considered myself: an actress. A damn good one. It took a lot to moan when some sweaty Italian was thrusting on top of you. I shuddered, pushing the memory away.

I rummaged through my dresser until I found a stack of rolling papers and a clump of weed. Paul's was stressful, and I knew just the cure. The girls from the club taught me how to roll and I was finally getting the hang of it. I wrapped it up, then dug my lighter out of yesterday's pants in the laundry pile. I lit the joint, letting the aroma fill the air, and inhaled. I fell back on the sleeper sofa, landing roughly on the bed. I stared up at the ceiling, taking another drag and wondering if I could ever get out of this mess. I realized I couldn't so I took another drag. Relief.

But my mind always went back to tonight at Paul's. I thought I had everything sorted out. I'd get enough money to go back to New Orleans and see Doug, but someone was preventing that.

Tyler.

No one had ever been so kind to me before aside from Doug. I knew I had to be wary about Tyler because he was just as much as a low life as I was. When he hit Georgie for touching me in the alley, I could smell the rank liquor on his breath. He wasn't being chivalrous. He was being a drunk. It made me think that no one else out there will ever be as good to me as Doug was.

That's why I left him and Lois. I wasn't deserving of their love. I didn't need to be a burden on them. His money shouldn't be given to me. I was a big girl, as I said to Tyler, and I didn't need help. I could handle myself. I'd been raising myself since my mom died in the crash. The foster parents I had growing up ignored me as much as my birth mother did. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I could be an adult on my own. I was doing a good job by the looks of it. I had a place to myself. I had clothes. Now I had money for food.

I put out the joint, setting the roach in a tumbler on the side table. I had no watch, but with a peek outside the window I could tell that it was already beginning to be dawn. I stripped myself, uncovering my body and exposing the bruises on my legs. Dancing was hard, brutal work. I usually covered the spots up with makeup, but it had sweated off. I changed into a new pair of underwear and climbed in bed topless. It was hot, and the smoke wasn't helping my case. I drifted to sleep in a foggy haze.

A rapping at my door woke me up, and I shot out of bed, angry that I'd been woken from my slumber. I found a sheet and covered myself up while walking to the door. I swung the door open to reveal my landlord. "What's up, Mike?"

"Your rent wasn't enough." He slid by me and invited himself inside. He was a balding on top of his head, but hairy everywhere else. Gray was sprinkled in what hair he had left on his head. His gut protruded from his body from all of the Bud Lights he drank. He wore faded, outdated clothes with gold rings and necklaces. He looked like a wannabe pimp. He wasn't a slightly attractive man which probably led him to my door in the first place.

I covered myself up more, turning to face him. "Bullshit," I spat. I counted the money in the envelope. I had enough. Maybe I hadn't had a traditional education, but I knew how to fucking count.

Mike sat on my bed, the mattress caving in where he sat, patting the spot next to him. "You were a hundred short."

I hoisted the sheet up with one hand and put the other on my hip."A hundred? That's weird because that's exactly how much I charge for-"

"There's a waiting list for this apartment. I need that money soon. Unless you can give me something else that will be to your benefit and mine, then you're shit out of luck."

"What do you want?"

"You haven't sucked my dick in a while."

I snorted. He was straightforward. "That's all you want? I figured you'd want a fisting." Not like I'd participate in that anyway.

He shrugged, standing up. He appraised me, licking his chapped lips, and I wrapped the sheet around me a bit more."I'll be back soon. I need an answer. Paul and I had a deal that if I house his whores I'd occasionally get something out of it."

"Whatever. Not today. Bye, Mike," I said as he made his way to the door.

"Think about it, bitch, or you're going to be on the streets before you know it. Don't tempt me." He closed the door behind him, creating a slamming sound. I stared at the slumping spot where he sat on my bed. Then I decided what I needed to do.

I had to get out of there.